


(names) carved on our skin

by verivala



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bigotry & Prejudice, Canon Compliant, F/M, Falling In Love, Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 05:45:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19882609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verivala/pseuds/verivala
Summary: Nagini, she had whispered, testing the name on her tongue. My name is Nagini.





	(names) carved on our skin

**Author's Note:**

> IDK where this came from tbh, I usually write Grindeldore. 
> 
> I'm very intrigued by Nagini's story, and I'm very keen to find out how she ends up with Voldemort. Personally, not a fan of the fandom narrative that she's a white man's pet. It completely strips her of her agency.
> 
> Also, I thought that she and Credence were cute, so, Credini fic. (Hello, rare-pair hell, my old friend)
> 
> (Note: I'm on summer hols and don't have the movie with me, so if I get something wrong, my bad.)

If she had ever had parents, she could not remember them. She could only remember the streets, the loneliness, the hunger. The cold terror of changing form every night in hidden alleyways, her bones shifting and disappearing, her organs changing place, her teeth growing long and dripping with venom.

She had lived in fear; always afraid of being caught, of being hunted, of being killed.

For a long time, she had been alone. For a long time, she had had no name. She simply had been. A Girl, a Beast, a Monster, a Freak, all names that had been hissed at her from other's lips. For a long time, she had only been the Maledictus, the Cursed, doomed to a fate crueller than death.

* * *

Her name had been given to her in a temple. She had been thirteen years old, looking for shelter from heavy rain. Finally, after what felt like hours of searching, she had stumbled across a small Hindu temple deep in the woods. She had slithered under the floorboards for protection. She had slept there, in her snake form, shaking and shivering, almost falling into hibernation.

When she had left in the morning, she had not noticed the _pujari_ before it was too late, before he had already seen her transform from a snake into a girl. When she had heard him gasp, she had turned, trembling in fear, ready to run at any moment. (She had been caught before; it had not ended well. Sometimes, she had still heard the screams in her dreams and woken up with the copper taste of blood on her fangs. Even the memory of it had been enough to make her feel ill.) The gasp had come from a young _pujari_ who had knelt before her, trembling in awe.

"Nāgini," he had called her, handing her bread as an offering. She had taken it with shaking hands, holding it to her chest. Still afraid, she had run, the food held tightly against her. As she had eaten it later, hidden out of sight, she had recalled what the man had called her. _Nagini_.

_Nagini_ , she had whispered, testing the name on her tongue. _My name is Nagini._

* * *

She had ended in the circus out of desperation. It had been the only place where she could find work, even though the man who had employed her had treated her as little more than a pet, a wild beast to be tamed. Still, he had been frightened of her. She had smelt it in the air around him. Sometimes she had wanted to yell at him. Tell him that she was human, that her name was not pet or darling; it was Nagini. _My **name** is Nagini! She_ had wanted to scream, tasting the blood on her lips.

She had not, but she had wished that she could have. She hadn’t wanted to be so very afraid. Always so very afraid.

* * *

It had been in the circus where she had met Credence. She had been hidden behind the bars of her glorified jail cell when he had first knelt before her. "Here," he had whispered, holding out an extra ration in his hand. His shoulders had been hunched, drawn together to protect him from the world, the look in his eyes reminding her of herself. It had been the look of someone hunted, someone afraid of themselves. Her heart had thudded in realisation. _He was like her._

Cautiously, she had taken the bread from his hands, and her lips had stretched into the first smile she could remember in a long time. He had blinked at her and smiled shakily back, his lips as unused to the action as hers had been. She had giggled, and the sound had startled her with its happiness. _He was like her. He was so much like her._

The look of shock on his face had only made her laugh harder, and her sides had ached from the unusual movement. He had looked uncertain at first, but still, he had smiled at her joy and sat down slowly on the floor in front of her cage. Slowly, her giggling had faded, and she had looked at him, still smiling. She had lifted the bread in her hands and torn it in two, handing him the other half. With a twitch of his lips, he had taken it.

"What is your name?" she had asked, her voice hoarse from not speaking so long. He had startled from his hunched position on the floor where he had been nibbling on his bread like a baby bird. "Credence," he had whispered, so quietly she had hardly been able to hear him. Nervous, he had flickered his eyes up and down before clearing his throat and asking, "What's yours?"

"Not many people have ever asked me that," she had told him.

Credence had frowned and said, "I'm sorry."

Nagini had shaken her head. "Don't be. I am very used to cruelty." His frown had only deepened. Smiling at his worry, she had told him, "It's Nagini. My name is Nagini."

* * *

Credence had come to her as often as he could, always careful not to be noticed; she had awaited his every visit eagerly. He had been a breath of fresh air from all the leering and cheering men who had constantly been staring at her, thinking she was either something to owned or feared or both.

He had always brought food that they would share, and slowly, cautiously, they had told each other of their lives; of what it had been like to be seen as the Other, the Freak, the Monster hiding under children’s beds. She had smiled more than she ever had before, although she had still remained cautious in his presence on those early days, having experienced too much cruelty in her life to not to be. Inch by inch, they had moved closer to each other, clinging to each other in a world that had treated them like they were something to be feared and reviled when all they had been was alone.

It had been her who had made the first move to touch. He had just finished telling her of the orphanage, of the sound a whip makes on the skin, how the wounds had hurt but the cruelty had ached deep inside his very soul. His head had been bent, hiding his face from view. Carefully, cautiously, she had reached out a hand between the bars and touched him. He had grown as still as stone at her touch, but he had not moved away. Slowly, so as not to spook him, she had moved her hand and caressed his soft, black hair. They had both been so fragile back then; easily broken by one wrong move.

After a few moments, she had retreated. They had not talked about it afterwards, but the next time they had seen each other, Credence had slipped a hand between the bars and clasped her hand into his. He had looked away as he had done so, his frame tense as he had waited for her reaction. She had considered the foreign warmth of him, feeling the calluses on his knuckles that marked the places where a whip had broken skin; his history starkly painted before her on the deceptive softness of his hands.

After a moment, she had squeezed back, and he had relaxed. "You're very pretty," he had mumbled, colour high on his cheekbones. She had blushed and leaned against him as best as she could with the cold, forbidding bars between them.

That night, she had drifted off against him for the first time. Her name was Nagini, and just for a moment, he had been hers, and she had been his.

* * *

One day, he had come to her looking more nervous than usual. He had grabbed her hands and kissed them, making her let out a small gasp. As close as they had become, he had never kissed her before, both afraid of what it would mean. The kiss had made her heart pound faster, and heat had rushed to her cheeks. She had wondered how it would feel like to lean down and kiss him on the lips. Before she had, he had whispered, "Would you like to get out of here?"

She remembers blinking in astonishment. She had opened her mouth, on the edge of refusing, but then she had seen how Credence had been looking at her, scared but determined. It had suddenly struck her how truly courageous he was. She had recalled all the times she had thought of leaving; of striking her teeth into Skender's neck, bleeding him dry before escaping into the night ( _My name is Nagini_ , she had wanted to scream). But she never had. And then, there had been Credence, so violently afraid, filled with equal parts of hope and desperation. Frightened, but still doing it anyway.

"Yes," she had said, smiling, "Let's do it."

He had smiled, and it had been the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. _Her name was Nagini, and together, they would run away._

* * *

He had gone, chasing after his past, and she had been left alone again.

_My name is Nagini_ , she had wanted to scream. _My name is Nagini, and your name is Credence_.

* * *

Years later, she had come across another boy. His smile had been beautiful, but not the way Credence's had been. It had been a cold smile. It had been a lonely smile. She had thought to slither past him, but something within that smile had stopped her. Maybe it had been the emptiness of it. The same emptiness she could feel deep inside herself.

_(Wounds hurt, but cruelty aches deep inside your soul_. She had forgotten many things when she had turned permanently into a beast, but him, she had never forgotten.)

She had no longer remembered how to speak, or how to interpret words others made, so it had startled her when the boy had opened his mouth, and she could understand the sounds that had come out.

_What is your name?_ The boy had asked. His smile had been half-amused, half-admiring. She had tasted the air, and he had not been afraid.

_My name is Nagini_ , she had hissed, and when the boy had reached out a hand to her, she had gone to him.

**Author's Note:**

> Pujari is a Hindu temple priest.
> 
> So, leave a comment, kudos, whatever you are in the mood for!
> 
> I have Tumblr, but it's mostly general HP/FB stuff or Grindeldore. If you still wanna check me out, my username is bloodtroth.


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